Lessons from my dad

My father passed away at the begining of my freshman year of high school in 1970. Among the many obvious things that made that so sad was the fact that it was at a time when our relationship was just begining to change from father-as-instructor to father-as-advisor. When I was young he taught me to play baseball and helped with my homework. Shortly before he died he began teaching me how (not what) to think about things in addition to how to do things. Even though that time was painfully short, the lessons were there and their impact remains.

One incident occured when the Youth for Christ singing group I was involved with returned several hours later than scheduled due to circumstances I can’t recall now. Cell phones didn’t exist so the parents where unaware of our several hour delay. Dad was waiting in the church parking lot when the bus finally droped us off. On our way home I remember him saying something along the lines of, “Your mom is very worried and she may appear mad. It’s OK. That’s what mom’s do. You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t be upset if she acts angry. It’s because she loves you and she’s been worried.” That may seem to be an inconsequentional conversation to you, but it has stuck with me for these past 35 years. Over the years since I’ve observed several truths that I only began to learn that night.

• Men and women are different, as non-pc as that may be. It’s not a difference in ability or potential, but a difference of thought and outlook. One thing I’ve observed over the years in parents is how often a mother is quicker to think a child should go to the doctor or hospital than a father. Mom says, “that needs to be looked at.” while dad says, “he’ll be fine.” Women tend to want to protect their loved ones from “the world” while men are more focused on protection from individual situations. Of course as with all generalizations, it falls apart under the light of specific incidents, but I don’t think that invalidates the general observation.
• Don’t read too much into observed emotions. Emotions that are easier to see can mask others that lie beneath the surface. Dad was right that night. When we got home my mothers questions could have seemed angry if dad hadn’t prepared me for them. “Where have you been?” Why was the bus late?” But dad (in the small way that a fourteen year old boy could relate to at that time) had already let me know that those were rooted in worry not anger, and in love.
• A fathers love can be expressed differently but isn’t any less for that difference.

One other thing I took away from that event, although it took many years to realize it, was an appreciation for the changing role of a father as a child grows. It remains a pivitol part of my life in that I began to learn not only how to do things, but to think about things as well.

Other lessons weren’t as anchored to a specific event and in many cases took years to sink in. The lessons were there all the time, I just had to look back to see them.

• Character comes from what you do, not what you say. Dad, like a lot of men of his generation, wasn’t much of a talker. As I look back at his life I can remember much more about things I observed than of things he said. I remember how he treated people. All people. At a time when race relations were being tested and changed dad was mostly color-blind. I remember the way he related to people and can see now that it was tied to their character not a group to which they were a part. Most importantly I remember that his character didn’t change when he wasn’t in public. In later years I’ve associated it with the phrase, “Character is what you are when no one is around.”
• Beliefs trump Circumstances. The fact that life doesn’t always give you what you hoped for is not an excuse for changing what you believe. My father believed in God without question, but not without questions. His questions (this I learned from others telling me about dad over the years) served to deepen his understanding of God, not to question his belief in God. He believed in America. He was too young to serve in WWII and too old to serve in Korea, but his respect for this country was unwavering. When the flag passed by in a parade he would ALWAYS stand (an make my sister and I stand too). When the National Anthem was performed at a ball game his hand would be over his heart. I don’t recall seeing either of those things much anymore. He believed in his family. Not that we were flawless, but that we were his. Even his discipline, I can see now, came from believing in what we could be. He even believed in the Phillies during years that doing so was a very trying thing to do.
• Whatever you do, do the best that you possibly can. He never allowed me to do a job part way, and he wouldn’t either. Looking back I could see his loyalty and character even doing jobs he didn’t particularly like.

I know that this paints him in near saint-like hues. Like all humans he had his many flaws. It’s just that the things I remember are the things that made him so great in my eyes. I love him and thank him for everything he gave me and taught me in what amounted to a few short years. I miss him. Most of all I am grateful that I can look back at his life and see how it has molded my thinking. At times I don’t live up to the standard he set even as I realize that he didn’t always measure up to the standards he set for himself. I certainly have not been the father I would like to be. I’ve made choices and done things that went against these valuable life lessons. Yet, I can almost hear him say in my mind, “That’s ok. Just do better next time,” or “Is that the best way to do that?” That is when I don’t here him say, “The Phillies could really do it this year.”

Happy Fathers Day, dads. God bless each of you.

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